


That ain't stuff to be talked about

by HellIsEmpty



Category: Original Work
Genre: BDSM, Dominance, F/M, Guilt, Gun Kink, Gun Violence, Rape/Non-con Elements, Submission, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:28:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28778280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HellIsEmpty/pseuds/HellIsEmpty
Summary: The story is set somewhere deep in a wild part of Ukraine, during the World War II. Aaron Cole wants that shit she cannot have - someone she could submit to, although she doesn't know how to put that shit into words. So she coerces Alexander, her neighbor, co-patriot and close friend to kill her so that she can experience the thrills of pain and submission.I don't really know yet where I want to go with this story.
Kudos: 1





	That ain't stuff to be talked about

**Author's Note:**

> I want to try my hand at erotica. I'm still shy and unsure about it.  
> I can write guilt but I can't write sex. Not yet.

'Hey', Alexander said, and pushed the gun hard into her nape, 'you outta know, you don't get to betray our people. Not just like that.'

'Aye', she said. 'I don'.'

Her body sagged against hay bale she was leaning on. Her hands stretched onward on the bale, clutching at loose straws. She thought it was almost like he would bend her over the bale and fuck her into it and into oblivion.

But he was too proper for that. He wasn't into sick stuff like she was. 

'And why would you choose to do something like that, eh?', he asked, his voice losing that icy edge to it, his resolve crumbling bit by bit. She felt his arm loosen the pressure on the gun in his hand. She felt herself relax under it. She felt like swimming, swimming onto the ocean of letting go and of craving that with every particle of her body. Craving the gun. The promise of death. Oh and him, warm and soft and close. She wanted him to be the one delivering her fate. 

What if he sensed that? What if he thought her sick? He took away the gun, put the safety on with a click and tucked it behind his belt in one swift, almost melodious motion. To her it was like a sing song to victory. But it was also somwhat of a pity, and she arched her back instinctively, longing after the pressure of the muzzle on her neck.

God knows she wanted him to rape her bloody into the hay bale. 

Blood was trickling down her mouth and her chin. Some of it formed crusts on its course down from her nose. It was high blood pressure in her vessels that caused it. She licked at her mouth, hoping he wouldn't see or wouldn't mind. Hoping against herself for his mercy. 

He grabbed her by the scruff of her blouse and turned her forcefully around. She leant on the bale with her back to it, looking up at him with all the defiance she could gather at that moment whilst becoming steadily turned on by his careless manhandling. A smile flickered on her lips for a small moment. She wished against any better judgement for him to place the muzzle in her mouth and make her suck on it.

Dear lord, she sure was damaged.

'You're fucked up as hell', he said, looking her up and down and she guessed he did feel disgusted, though she wouldn't tell for his face was obscured by the darkness around them. A single light from a lone hut window played hide and seek on her face, whilst his was submerged in the night. 'Do you think this is funny?', he asked. 

'M'sorry', she declared, steady and confident. 

'No, you're not.'

'What did'ya take me outside for?', she said, pushing him with her hands on his chest. He didn't stumble, but took a step back nevertheless. 'Yer after me grovelling at yer feet, you stupid fuck. Ain't gon' happen. If I even ratted you out doesn't change I'm one of you and I wanna help out. That shit can't be undone. Either you shoot me or take me back on and forget that.'

He stood where she placed him with a stare, half a metre away from her and the gun still safely under his belt. He didn't move to take it again. He felt distress take him over and under. 

All those years they lived hut by hut and she would be playing a sick game of hot and cold with the enemy behind their backs. One day she was all over the enemy camp and the next she went back home and fessed up. 

And it was why he was both hot and cold when he was this close to her. She made him do things, it was like she was forcing his hand on the trigger. And god knows it worked. Speaking of god.

'You'd better go pray for a mind of your own. Got us a dozen men killed. What are you after?'

She considered him, her eyes glinting in the half shadow. 'The way you're treating me, it messes with my head', she declared. 'I've done some serious shit and I admit that. God knows whatever it was for but what's done is done and there's no turning back now. I was fucking around in the enemy camp for sure, but that doesn't change that you don't just get to take me out, threaten to shoot me and then take it all back. You change your mind more than the weather changes this summer. One day you're all about forgive and forget, and the other you push at my limits. I am nearly done for, for all I know. I balance myself on the verge of insanity and death. It don't take much to push me over the edge and be done with me like, for ever.' She panted with the exertion of speaking forcefully, yet in a hushed tone. Water drip-dripped on their heads and their hair, and her damp hair clung to the sides of her face, tangled together in strands and knots. Moisture hovered thickly in the air, enveloping them in its summery heat. She felt herself suffocating, breathing in and feeling as if the air stops at her larynx, unable to reach the lungs. 

'It don't just happen like that, forgive and forget.', he said. 'It sure don't happen like that when you sneak out to the enemy camp, pass on important intel and come back like you never did no such thing. There's this sick mind of yours working all the time, inventing new ways to screw yourself and us in the process. It ain't above you to pass on intel for them to raid our encampment and put us all in an unmarked grave.'

She felt her lips parting enticingly. Rain fell on them and she lapped at the rain. Desire ran through her veins like a disease. 

She could tell he knew. Her hand moved to touch the gun through the damp shirt of his. 

'Did that for ya', she said. Her hand caressed the shirt covering the gun and then moved down to climb back up his naked belly under the shirt, poking ever so sligthly at the gun. The metal felt pleasantly warm and hard to the touch. She begged him quietly, inside her head, to make her kneel down. 

He didn't.

'You should be ashamed of yourself', he said instead. 'Clearly you don't think straight. Can't make you do that but I promise, whenever that happens again, won't be me behind the trigger. M'sorry, can't do that no more. Not like this.' He gently removed her hand, held it and stroked between his fingers. 

'Poor ya', she said. 

He sighed. 

'We're going home', he said. 'I won't tell what you did. The boys wouldn't be that considerate of you and your feelings as I am. This stupid war messed with our heads and I admit I can't see right from wrong n'more. Though I know what you're after, it won't be me. Not now, not ever.'

But she wouldn't, couldn't pass up the opportunity to do that then, not when it was so close the air buzzed with electricity of their bodies and her desire. 'Fuck me', she said. 

He let go of her hand and rubbed at his brow, confusion and tiredness warring against each other to take over his body and soul. 

'Punish me', she added quietly. They could hear leaves and branches rustle because the rest of it, the world, was silent as death.

A gust of wind pushed her hair back, water dripping from her brow down and mixing with blood at her mouth and chin. 

'Please', she said.

He looked around cautiously before he stepped up closer and pushed her lightly back on the bale. 'You don't hafta get us killed to get my attention, alright?', he said. 'I kind of might know what you're after, now that I get to connect all the dots.' He took the gun out and she stopped breathing for a moment, heating up like a stove in the deep winter. He placed the gun on the bale next to her, holding it all the time and leaning over her body, never touching it with his. 'Ain't that simple. A little terror and a little pain. But that don't taste right when you're not guilty, does it?' He was leaning over her and she could feel his bodily warmth against hers. 'Oh yeah, that's what's getting you off. A little play and a little softness. Half true, half fake. I'm just a tool for you to hang yourself on. It's like you're not even here when I'm holding the gun like that, are you?'

She wasn't. She was breathing so hard it hurt. 

'Oh yeah', he whispered. 

'Please', she said. 

He pushed himself up and away from her. The gun disappeared back into its place behind the belt and he adjusted his shirt slowly and deliberately. She was panting, trying to steady herself against the bale. 'Want that, huh?', he asked. 'Then work for it. Be faithful, be loyal. I'm gonna give you guilt, I'm gonna give you that shit you're after alright.'

He turned and started to walk away, just like that. She stumbled forward after him and clutched at his shirt for the dear life, 'Please. I'll be good. Please, just a little.' He turned around and smiled. She could see his smile in a small flicker of light from a faraway hut. 

'You put those men in the ground, you sick psycho, you murderer. Think I wouldn't want to shoot you on this very spot? Think I shouldn't? I could have a death sentence passed for what you pulled.'

She breathed in at the last sentence, pushing the air hard into the lungs, relishing at the words she'd been after for years. Finally there they were, right in front of her and there was more where it was coming from. The moment was so precious she could not believe it was real. He reached out with his hand and wiped at her bloody mouth and chin with his thumb whilst digging two fingers under the chin until it hurt. 'I could love you', she breathed, trying to lick at his thumb and be still. 

'I know.'

Silence enveloped them and tucked away cosy into the night. 

'I could love you too', he said. 'Why won't you ever tell me the truth?', she picked up the pain in his voice, clear as day. 

'That ain't stuff to be talked about', she said.


End file.
